(continued from page 13 - Africa)

possesses as a theatre artist and teacher. It was designed, directed and performed entirely by the students, who were mainly Zulu, but also Xhosa, Sotho and English. After the performance, we met the students and went out with them. About an hour into the meal, one of the students, Gloria, said that they had Zulu names for my wife and me. The name given to me was "Stu-doz-uh" which means, "He who comforts," and to my wife, "Gu-Gu," which means "Precious One." We were, of course, touched by this honor, but also amazed that after knowing us for such a short time, they could discern a central aspect of our character. In fact, I am known (and I say this not to boast, but to verify the accuracy of the name) as a person to whom people can turn to for support, guidance and yes, comfort. (As for my wife, you must take my word for it, but trust me when I say that the students were also right on with her.) The gift I received from this "naming" is to trust my own nature in the classroom: that part of who I am is "Stu-doz-uh" and that my students need and want that part of me as much as they need and want the information and knowledge I have to share with them.

Second, during the workshops, the students fairly demanded to do their pieces after the Image Exercise. They not only demonstrated abundant talent, but many of them had written the pieces they performed, and they were often about issues that directly impacted their own lives - apartheid, racism, crime, the "New" South Africa, physical and sexual abuse and AIDS (as you may know, South Africa has the dubious distinction of being one of the fastest growing areas in the world for the spread of AIDS). I was incredibly moved by their willingness to share these very personal pieces, which were occasionally light or humorous, but more often serious, painful and difficult for them to do. But their courage inspired me and reminded me that in our technological world, the very act of publicly sharing pain, joy, fear, anger, happiness, hate, love, all the elements of the human condition, is the true power of our art form.

Third, I made a few tape recordings of the students, with their permission, for my dialect/accent work. Little did I know they would also serve as a record of the wonderful, special people they are. I simply asked where they were from, and then asked them to talk about why they were studying theatre or "drama," as they call it. Many eloquent and passionate things were said, but in particular, I was impressed by Simon, who after saying that he "didn't choose drama

>>

drama chose me," and that he "wouldn't mind being a celebrity," also said that what he and his fellow South African students really want to do is "share their work with the community, to make a difference in the lives of their people." I can think of no better aim for any artist.

I am privileged to have been taught by some of the great Acting and Voice teachers of our time and I thank them all for the contribution they have made to my life and my work. Now I add to that list Deb, Mbeki, Musa, Linda, Mina, Jolyn, Gloria, Wonderboy, Simon, Sandile, Mnatha, Simon, Linda, Patricia, Mabongi, Bryan, Bongani, Sean, Lueen, Portia, Thandeka, Thabo, Joel, Sipho, Edwin, Mome, Dawn, and all the others who make a place that seemed "A World Apart," as close as by own world and my own students. For that was the thing I learned that clarified everything else: in this work, my students come first, that their success is my success. They are all the Voices of the Future and it is my hope that through the connection that was established by my visit, they will have the opportunity to hear each other and use those Voices to speak to one another. That, I believe, is the best hope for our art and our planet.